


Fit for a King

by Auty_Ren



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, F/M, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Lap dancing, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Smut, boba is soft for one (1) person, handjobs, man-handling, mentions of insecurties, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28539135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auty_Ren/pseuds/Auty_Ren
Summary: Boba had been taking care of you for so long, now you just wanted to return the favor.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader, Boba Fett/You, Kingpin!Boba Fett/Reader, Kingpin!Boba Fett/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 153





	Fit for a King

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y’all Boba fuckers are hungry, soups on. Enjoy babes.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr: @auty-ren

It had never been this quiet before.

Noise had become routine, with people and parties and the occasional disagreement that carried through stone walls; and in their absence there was nothing.   
It felt odd, like an itch that laid far too deep for blunt fingernails to scratch it. Perhaps it was the nerves, your mind was twisting reality and racing with unsolicited worry over something so small; your way of distracting from the bile that sat uneasily on your chest.

No the palace had never been this quiet, or this cold.

The cold was not an expected trait of the desert planet Tatooine, and since your arrival not a day had passed when you didn’t loath the uncomfortable burn of the twin suns. The chill was refreshing, even with the goosebumps it left in its wake; breezes wafting through the stone windows, gentle with little pinpricks of sand kissing your shoulders and stirring the skirt of your dress.

You hoped he liked it.

The material was soft and sheer; beautiful deep color and much different than anything you had ever worn before. Part of you was thankful that there were so few of you left in the palace, Fennec being the only person you had seen. She was smug as always, the corners of her mouth quirking when she opened your door to find you wearing the article. She hadn’t said anything other than a playful, ‘Going somewhere?’ and laughing when you scoffed at her. Fennec accompanied you down the halls, acting as an escort like she always did, even when you insisted you were capable of finding your way.

You stopped at the threshold of the stairs, the final clicks of Fennec’s boots fading with her goodbye as she disappeared back down the hall. The pit in your stomach was growing heavy, nervousness that kept you grounded on the spot, part of wishing you would turn and walk away.

Why were you so nervous?

Your steps echoed down the spiraling case, softly bouncing across dark walls that led you closer and closer to the entrance, to where Boba was waiting for you. 

What was he going to say? 

Boba could be a harsh man, his reputation proceeded him and every ounce of respect given, he had earned. The feared ‘ruler of the underworld’ as you affectionately called him. He always laughed when you did, hearty and deep from within his chest with a smile that reached to his eyes.

They sparkled every time he looked at you; rough and scarred hands caressing you with delicate touches, his sweet words mumbled around kisses on your skin. He held you under his weight every night like you would fade if his grip didn’t keep you grounded next to him. You held him just as tight, trying to soothe worry he whispered to you in the dark. Try as you must, every moment with him was spent with such haste sometimes, both of you laying in the moonlight and wishing the hours didn’t pass by so quickly. You cherished it, hoping the images of him basked in moonlight, his smile crooked and your fingertips tracing his face, were burn into your memory.

Sometimes he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the galaxy. And you never forgot a moment of it. 

“Now, now, baby girl.” Boba’s voice was striking against the silence, his chuckle barely noticeable from under his helmet.

It was warm all of a sudden, your smile bright as you walked up the few steps separating you, slowing until you stood just a few feet from where Boba sat. You ran a finger over the stone arm of the throne, the grain rough as you trailed patterns up and up and up until you met Boba’s hand.

“What are you doing wearing all this?”

He leaned forward, his hand taking yours and pulling you to stand in between his legs.

“You don't like it?” You asked sweetly, your heart hammering at the thought of his answer.

He said nothing at first, the visor of his helmet dipping to the split at your hip, your leg peeking through the material. You tilted your head to the side, mirroring him and following his pull until you straddled his lap. 

His touch was warm against your chilled skin, soft leather running up your thighs, pushing layers to the side and exposing more of you to him. Your hands braced against his chest, exploring just as he did; running your hands up to the collar of his underclothes, your fingertips brushing at the skin under his helmet.

His eyes were still sparkling as they were revealed to you, even with the dim light you could see the glint when your hands cupped his cheeks. He felt like fire, always burning underneath your skin with every slant of his lips against yours. Rough touches prickling your skin and shooting straight through your chest with the feeling of his hips grinding against yours.

“Take it off.” He murmured into a kiss, soft and sweet as his hand drifted to your neck.

“Slowly.”

His gaze never leaves you, following the path your hands take over your body, the straps of the dress slipping from your shoulder and your hips rocking gently to the silent tune in your head. He lingered at the rolls and dips of your features, things you knew he already loved. There was nothing but adoration behind his eyes, his pupils boring directly into yours every chance they met; something behind them leaving the fuzzy, light-headed feeling in your chest swelling.

When his fingers itch too badly, he reaches out for you, dragging you to straddle him again and holding onto you as if his life depended on it. He pulls the pin twisted in your hair out, discarding the jewelry without a second thought, the metal clanging against the concrete of the floor. Pieces of your hair fall in your face, his hands immediately brushing them behind your ear with a grin.

“There she is.” His hand lingered on your face, his fingers running along your jaw until he met your mouth.

You smiled back at him, leaning into his touch and humming at the feeling of his bare skin finally touching yours. The pad of his thumb teased your bottom lip, smearing the color you had painted them with a few hours ago. Your tongue darted out to taste him, swirling until he pushed the digit into your mouth briefly, growling at the way you pouted at him.

“I wanted to look nice for you.” You whispered to him, batting your eyes and kissing the scar that ran along the palm of his hand.

His brow became heavy with your confession, his hand pulling from your grip, and instead, he reached for you, his fingers intertwining with yours and bringing them to his lips.

“I prefer you as you are, Princess.” He growled, pressing kisses to each knuckle of your hand, his lips dragging up to your wrist.

“Perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to the joint.

“Beautiful.”

A kiss to your forearm. A kiss on your shoulder.

“Mine.” 

Your pussy clenched at the sound of his voice, head falling back with his lips latching onto your neck. He groped you in his hands, squeezing your breasts, tummy, any part of you he could reach until the contact ached under your skin. His cock was hard against you, throbbing with your touch as you pulled on the laces of his trousers lose, moaning as he marked your neck with his tongue.

“What does that say, baby girl?” 

Something positively sinful dripping from his words.

His hands threaded through your hair, twisting locks of it into his fist at the base of your head. He turned your face, making sure you were looking over his shoulder at the carvings lining the arch of the throne, symbols chipped away at the stone and accented with a dark color to make them stand out. 

“Your name.”

You breathe the words like a relief, completely at the mercy of his kiss and whining at the barest of moments of attention from him. You pulled him free from his trousers, practically drooling from how needy he looked in the palm of your hand.

“And what does that mean, baby girl?”

He was grinning, humming praise into your skin every time your thumb dragged over the weeping tip of his cock.

“It’s yours.”

“Such a smart girl.” He chuckled, his hand leaving a sharp smack on your ass that he soothed with his palm. He swallowed the noise that came from your mouth, his tongue running along your lips and tasting you as if he was a man starved.

“This palace is mine.”

He nipped at your jaw, his hand holding you firmly against him by the back of your neck.

“This throne is mine. And this?”

He slides two fingers along your folds, his palm cupping your mound as they spread the slick over the lips of your pussy.

“This is mine isn’t it, baby girl?”

You nodded, your foreheads falling together as Boba pulled you impossibly closer, straddling his thighs. Just inches from each other, you sat lost in him, grinning like two idiots in love as you panted into each other’s mouths.

You confessed symphonies into his lips, each note carrying a promise that squeezed the vice you kept over his heart. He would do anything for you. For your health. For your happiness. You brought the kingpin of the galaxy to his knees and you hadn’t even been trying.

You had no idea the promises he made to you, secrets told in darkness as you lay asleep beside him. He would burn galaxies to ash if you only asked him to.

“You want me to fuck you on my throne, Princess?”

His hand bumped into yours, rhythms falling out of sync as you both moved with desperation and your minds clouded with the sheer presence of one another.   
His fingers made slow circles over your clit, calculated movements that were just enough to have you begging for more; your hand dragged along his length, squeezing his tip as beads of precum leaked from his weeping cock.

“Take what belongs to you.”

He was heavy inside of you, pain that always ultimately became your haven; the push of his cock becoming the prayer you whispered over and over, spiraling into oblivion. He held you in his arms, tight and bruising delicate skin as he guided you to bounce on his lap; thrusting in time with you and groaning each time he bottomed out of your pussy. The drag was delicious and had you shaking in his arms in no time, the beskar of his armor stinging against the burning of your skin.

A sob tore through your throat, your head buried in the cowl at his neck when you gushed around his cock; your mess wetting his trousers and coating your thighs. It snapped at the base of your spin, the pressure growing and growing with each bump of him inside of you, until it flooded you, your curses muffling from how you hide your face. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Just like that.”

Boba guided you through it, his hold on your hips tightening with thrust as he fucked your release out of you. He spent himself inside of you, filling you until it dripped down his shaft and collected between your bodies; sticky and making you throb around him at the sight.

The world was getting fuzzy around the edges, a blissful weight settling into your bones and making the idea of ever moving away sound dreadful. Boba never stopped kissing you, his nose buried in your hair and kissing your scalp when your head felt too heavy to hold up. You mumbled something about moving but he was quick to shush you, telling you to stay for as long as you wanted, that he would still be holding you when you woke again.

You latched your arms around his neck, pressing a final kiss to his cuirass as you laid your head against it. He kept cooing at you long after your breath had evened out, your limbs heavy against him as he pets your hair. But he kept you close, even with the annoying prickle that came from his legs, he wouldn’t dare disturb you.

You, after all, were his girl.

And he would make sure you’re taken care of.


End file.
